Just for Fun

by Rosalind James

  The young man looked up, startled. Then back at Emma, eyes doing a quick, obvious reassessment. He got to his feet again, pulled the T-shirt on in haste. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t realize . . .”

  “No worries.” She smiled at him a bit sadly as Graham puffed up next to Zack. “Have a good day.”

  Too young for me anyway, she reminded herself, pulling out togs and towels and preparing for the trek to the changing rooms. However young she looked on the outside—and she knew she appeared quite a bit younger even than her 27 years—she’d left that carefree girl behind a long, long time ago.

  Chapter 11

  Emma held Zack tightly by the hand as they made their way through the crowded Eden Park concourse and up the stairs to their entry door. He was wearing his prized Blues T-shirt, with a warm jumper over it in deference to the chill of the late April evening.

  “I wish I had a Blues jersey,” he’d sighed earlier as she’d pulled the thick sweater over his head. “Or a hoodie, at least. I could’ve worn it outside my jumper, so everyone could see. D’you think all the other kids will have jerseys?”

  “Not everyone can afford that,” she reminded him. “They’re awfully expensive, remember? We’re lucky to go tonight, though, aren’t we?”

  “Yeh!” he agreed, the jersey forgotten for the moment. He fidgeted as she grabbed her own jacket and reached for her ankle boots. “C’mon, Mum. We’re going to miss it!”

  “We aren’t going to miss it,” she promised. “Plenty of time.” She pulled on one boot, reached for the other. One heel had a bad scuff, she saw with disgust. When had that happened? She hobbled into the kitchen and grabbed a Sharpie from the mug on the bench, colored the mark in with a few quick strokes. That was the good thing about black, she thought in satisfaction as she pulled the boot on and looked at it from above. Nothing visible from here. And nobody was going to be studying her feet that closely.

  “Mum,” Zack wailed. “Hurry.”

  They were well in time, she thought gratefully forty-five minutes later, searching for their row near midfield of the big stadium. Being on time wasn’t always her best thing, but she hadn’t wanted Zack to miss the sight and sound of Nic being announced, running onto the field. So she’d made a special effort, scuffed boot and all.

  “Row 54,” she said at last. “This is us.” They edged into the row, murmuring their “Sorrys” as polite spectators stood or pulled legs aside for them. There would be other kids around, she saw. And lots of them did seem to be wearing jerseys, including the girls. Well, Nic had said there would be some players’ families here tonight. Although not his fiancée. She wasn’t able to make it. Emma felt a fresh surge of relief not to have to meet her right now, though she wondered at the same time why his girlfriend wouldn’t be at a home game. Surely that came with the territory?

  His love life is not your business, she reminded herself once again. Just forget that part of it. So hard to do, though, when she kept seeing him again, the coiled-spring way he still moved reminding her all too clearly of the past. How he’d looked. How he’d been. Wondered if he were doing all the things they’d done together with his fiancée.

  Of course he is. But she hadn’t. Had never done anything so exciting again. Her sex life since Zack, such as it was, had been pretty vanilla in contrast.

  Stop thinking about your sex life. And his. It was anticipating watching him play that was doing it, she supposed. She shifted her attention back to the present, smiled at her neighbor as she found their seats at last. The woman, a pretty blonde with a beanie pulled over her long hair, smiled back at her in friendly welcome.

  “You must be Emma,” the blonde said. “And this must be Zack. Nic’s good mate, I hear. I’m Hannah Callahan. Nic told me he had some special friends coming tonight. He asked me to look out for you.”

  Emma looked at her in surprise. She’d been grateful for the tickets that had kindled such a light in Zack’s eyes when Nic had produced them over their hamburgers as a bonus prize for enduring the blood test on Wednesday. But she’d certainly never expected this kind of greeting. “Thanks. That’s awfully nice of you. You’re Drew’s partner, right?”

  “Wife.” Hannah’s warm, rueful smile took any sting out of the correction. “I just can’t get used to that ‘partner’ thing. It makes me feel like we’re in a business deal. But you know what I mean. Nic said you were American too.”

  “Mum used to be,” Zack offered. “But now she’s a Kiwi, same as me.”

  “We’re all Kiwis now, aren’t we?” Hannah replied cheerfully. “I have a Kiwi boy at home myself. Too little to enjoy the game, though. Are you a Blues supporter?”

  “Yeh,” Zack told her earnestly. “They’re my most favorite team. Except the All Blacks.”

  “My sentiments exactly,” Hannah assured him. From the wife of the Blues and All Blacks captain, Emma could well believe it.

  “Who’re you talking to?” A statuesque woman with classical Maori features peered around Hannah. “Hi.” She held out a hand to Emma. “Reka Ranapia.”

  Emma introduced herself, then Zack. “That’s going to be boring for you, Zack, down the end like that,” Reka told him. “Scoot over here and sit with the rest of the kids. Shift down, Emma.”

  “We all do what Reka says,” Hannah laughed as Zack hurried to obey and she and Emma moved over in their turn.

  “I’m not bossy. I just have good ideas,” Reka grinned.

  “That you do,” Hannah agreed. “I love your sweater, Emma. And Zack’s as well.” She reached out to finger the heavy wool, the variegated shades of gray interspersed with white in a design of lightning bolts that had delighted Zack, as the boy squeezed past her. “Where’d you get this? And your own?”

  “I made them,” Emma told her, feeling a bit shy. She had decided to wear her own pale blue sweater tonight, with its dark blue trim, for obvious reasons. She might not have a jersey, but she could still wear the team colors. And her sweater was prettier than any jersey.

  “Really,” Hannah said, impressed. She turned to look at Zack’s sweater again. “I love that pattern. Exactly like a stormy sky. Where’d you find it?”

  “I made it up,” Emma said. “That’s my hobby, knitting. Designing knits, mostly. Once I start working on the actual garment, I just want to hurry up and finish it so I can start the next thing.”

  “Oh, no,” Reka groaned.

  “Sorry,” Emma said in embarrassed confusion. “Is this boring?”

  “Reka knows she’s just heard the last of me,” Hannah smiled. “Because you’re in my territory now.”

  “No worries,” Reka sighed. “I’ll just talk to Jenna and Kate. We’ll look after Zack, Emma. Got heaps of kids over here.”

  Emma thanked her, then turned her attention back to Hannah. “What do you mean?” she asked. “Your territory?”

  “I work for 2nd Hemisphere,” Hannah told her. “The merino firm.”

  “I know who they are, of course,” Emma said. “And I remember, now, that that’s what you do. I’m jealous. I love merino, though I can’t afford the yarn.”

  “Well,” Hannah said, scooting a bit closer and putting out a hand to touch the lace pattern of Emma’s sweater. She bent closer to examine the crocheted edge. “I have a new venture with them, my own idea that I’ve been working on for a couple years now.”

  “The maternity wear thing?” Emma asked. “I saw the interview you did, last year. I loved the clothes. I wish I’d had them, when I was pregnant.” They’d have been beyond her budget, although, she thought practically, they’d last through several pregnancies. The breathable, lightweight, extra-soft wool was perfect for maternity wear, cool in summer, warm in winter.

  “Don’t tell, but I’m planning on doing another of those,” Hannah told her. “I want to get a couple of my friends to model, this time. Reka’s expecting again, and Jenna Douglas is too. And the marketer in me can’t help but think about the airtime we could get with that. But I haven’t alerted them yet. I don’t
want to give them any time to think up excuses.”

  “But that isn’t the latest,” she continued. “We’re working now on a new line. Kids’ things. For boys too, but mostly for girls.”

  Emma’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Merino kids’ wear. Oh, how fun. Skirts,” she thought aloud. “Cardigans. Ooh. Stripes, and ruffles at the edges.”

  “Exactly. Do you work in design?”

  Emma laughed. “Not the kind you mean. CAD.”

  “But we do that,” Hannah said. “That’s how we produce our designs. In CAD.”

  “Really?”

  “What kind of CAD do you do?”

  “Engineering,” Emma told her ruefully.

  “Is that your field, then?”

  “Not by preference,” Emma admitted. “But it’s what I’ve been doing, since I left University.”

  “Well, let’s talk more another time,” Hannah said. “If you’ll be bringing Zack to more games. Because I’d love to get your thoughts. But we can’t do it now, because here we go.”

  Chapter 12

  Nic dropped his bag in the entryway the following Sunday, then thought again and took it upstairs to the bedroom. It would make Claudia happier to have it out of the way. And he didn’t need to give her any extra agro just now.

  Where was she, anyway? He finally ran her to ground in the exercise room, where she was riding the bike, headphones on. She pulled them off when she saw him, reached for the hand towel and wiped herself down. He went to her and gave her a kiss.

  “Hi,” she said with real warmth, returning the kiss with more enthusiasm than she’d shown him these past couple weeks. “Welcome home. Everything go OK? You looked good last night. Sorry about the loss, though.”

  “Thanks. A bit sore,” he admitted. “The Crusaders were fizzing. Couldn’t lift to match them. We’re still top of the ladder, but it’s got a wee bit too close for comfort.”

  “You can have a quiet day today, anyway. I’ve got nothing on, either.”

  He pulled her off the bike, kissed her again. “Hope you won’t, have anything on that is. Because I’ve missed you.”

  He hated to spoil the mood that afternoon, but on the other hand, this could be the perfect time to discuss the future, while they were feeling close, the bond tight again. “I got the blood test results back, Friday,” he told her as they relaxed on the couch, her feet in his lap, the Herald on Sunday spread out between them.

  And that was the mood spoilt, just as he’d feared. She pulled her feet away, sat upright and set the paper aside. “And?”

  “No surprises. He’s mine.” He’d been changing after the Captain’s Run at the stadium in Christchurch on Friday, had pulled out his mobile to see his doctor’s text. His heart had skipped a beat, and it had seemed like an age till he was alone, could ring Frank back to get the word. It had felt momentous despite the certainty he’d have said he’d felt before. The biggest shock had been the relief.

  A relief that Claudia clearly didn’t share. She let out her breath on a long sigh. “Not the news you were hoping for, eh,” he said with a wry smile.

  “It certainly does make life more complicated,” she admitted. “What does Oliver say?”

  “Haven’t had a chance to ring him yet. But it’s just a matter of filing the papers now, I reckon.”

  “That’s it, then,” Claudia said with a little nod. “Get it done, budget for that, and move on.”

  “Well, not quite,” Nic pointed out. “There’s still working out the visitation. That’ll be a bit trickier.”

  “You’re still planning on that, then.”

  “Course I am. Thought I’d made that clear.”

  “Don’t you think it’ll make everybody’s life pretty messy? He’s been getting on fine without you, all this time. Is it really fair to him to raise his expectations? I understand that you’re obligated on the maintenance,” she added hastily. “But putting him into a situation where he has to leave his mum and come here? How is that in his best interest?”

  “It’s in his best interest to have a dad who cares about him,” Nic said with finality. “I’m dead sure of that. And that means spending some time.”

  “And is his mum, what’s-her-name, quite keen on that too?”

  “Emma,” Nic said sharply. “Her name is Emma. And I don’t know. We haven’t discussed it, like I said. Early days yet.”

  “Uh-huh,” Claudia said skeptically. “All of this, and the stepmum thing too. I don’t think any of this is going to be as simple as you think.”

  “I didn’t say it’d be simple. But we’ll work it out, all the same. In the meantime, I’ll be spending time with him Mondays. Playing a bit of rugby, and having dinner. Starting tomorrow.”

  “She’s agreed to that?”

  “Emma? Yeh. For this week, she has. That’s as far as we’ve got. Which is why I need to talk it over with her. Plus all this.”

  “She doesn’t know yet?”

  “Nah. Wanted to tell you first. I need your support on this, Claud,” he admitted, taking her hand. “It’s thrown me for a good old loop, I don’t mind saying.”

  “I’m trying,” she said. “But it’s a big ask.”

  He scooted closer on the couch, took her in his arms. “I know it is. But we can do this, together. One step at a time.”

  Emma finished cubing the avocado, slid it from the chopping board into the wooden salad bowl with the flat of the knife, then crumbled some feta on top. She wished she had something more exciting to offer than a precooked chicken from New World, the roasted vegetable salad she’d prepared the day before, and this green salad. But that was as much as she could manage on a Monday evening.

  It wasn’t about eating anyway. It wasn’t a date. This dinner would merely be the transition between Nic’s time with Zack, and the discussion the two of them needed to have.

  Another lurch of anxiety at the thought. She shook her head impatiently, shoved it down with an effort. She’d done an extra thorough job of cleaning yesterday, had even tidied up the lounge, attempted to bring some order to her desk, get rid of some of the papers that seemed to multiply of their own accord. And then had been annoyed at herself. So she wasn’t neat. It wasn’t Nic’s place to judge her, and she was tired of apologizing for who she was. She’d resisted the urge to tidy her bedroom, anyway. Judgment or not, he wasn’t going to be seeing that.

  “Cheers for dinner,” Nic told her once Zack was safely tucked into bed. Emma had decided on the lounge this time. It was more comfortable, after all. But she wasn’t sitting on the couch with him. She took the small easy chair to one side, a safe distance away from where he sat, casual as usual in his track pants and T-shirt. She wished he’d wear long sleeves. And a turtleneck. And a bag over his head. Then she wouldn’t be distracted by the sleepy eyes, serious now, without the glint of fun she’d seen in them so often.

  Dinner. He was thanking her for dinner. “No worries. Zack loved having you here.”

  “Yeh.” He got up and went to the entryway, fished an envelope from the pocket of his jacket. Came back and handed it to her, reseating himself on the end of the couch beside her chair. “Here it is. The report.”

  She opened the envelope with hands that were suddenly cold. She’d known what it would say, of course, but she was still unprepared for what she saw there. The brief sentences, confirming that she and Nic were Zack’s parents.

  Father. There was the word that she once would have longed to see. Her fingers felt clumsy as she folded the paper again, shoved it back in the envelope and handed it to him without a word.

  “Your copy,” he told her. “I’ve got the other, to file. Rang Oliver—my attorney—today as well. He’ll handle it from here.”

  She nodded, set the envelope down on the coffee table, took a comforting sip of tea just for something to do. “OK.”

  “I’d like to make this—this Monday thing—a regular deal,” he went on. “You don’t have to feed me again,” he went on hastily. “I’ll take h
im out, afterwards. And I’ve got tickets for you, for the two home games that’re left, next couple weeks. If we end up playing any of the knockout rounds at home, I’ll get you those as well.”

  “All right. On the Monday thing. For now.” Zack certainly seemed to be enjoying himself, and that was what mattered. “And thanks for the tickets, and for asking Hannah to look out for us. That helped.”

  “No worries. Though she’ll be wondering why, when you turn up next time. May be time to tell people I’m his dad. As well as Zack.”

  “Not yet,” she said immediately.

  “Why not?” he asked in frustration. “Isn’t he going to wonder why I’m hanging about?”

  “Of course he isn’t. He’s six. To a six-year-old, adults are a big mystery. They don’t sit around analyzing our motivations. They accept what we do. He’s thrilled to have you around. But I don’t want to tell him you’re his dad until I’m sure you’re really ready to take that on.”

  “I’m sure. I’m doing it.”

  “I didn’t say till you were sure. I said till I was. You don’t have a great track record, do you?”

  “I was twenty-two,” he said impatiently. “And I didn’t know what I was walking away from.”

  “We’re not telling him yet,” she said again. “Please, Nic. Promise me. This really matters to me.”

  “OK,” he said reluctantly. “For now.”

  Chapter 13

  “How’re you going on those bridge revisions?”

  Roger was standing over her, doing what Emma privately thought of as his looming thing. His fingers drummed on the work surface as if he barely had time for her before his next urgent appointment. As if she were holding him up.

  “Fine,” she said briefly. “Everything’s on track.”

  He nodded briskly. “See that you get them done. The deadline’s Wednesday, remember, and we can’t afford to miss it.”

  “If I’m not working fast enough, maybe Sean could help out,” she suggested.